I Had but Fifty Cents

I took my girl to a fancy ball—
It was a social hop,
But we stayed until the folks went out,
And the music it did stop;
Then to a restaurant we went—
The best one in the street;
She said she wasn’t hungry,
But this is what she eat:
A dozen raw, a plate of slaw
A chicken and a roast;
Some sparrow grass and apple sass,
And soft-shell crabs on toast;
A big box-stew, and crackers, too,
Her appetite was immense.
When she called for pie, I thought I’d die,
For I had but fifty cents.

She said she wasn’t hungry—
She didn’t care to eat;
Now I’ve got money in my clothes
To bet she can’t be beat:
She took it in so cosy,
She had an awful tank,
She said she wasn’t thirsty,
But this is what she drank;
A whiskey skin, a glass of gin—
It made me shake with fear;
Some ginger pop, with rum on sop,
A schooner, then, of beer;
A glass of ale, a gin cock-tail,
She ought to have had more sense.
When she called for more, I dull on the floor,
For I had but fifty cents.

You bet I wasn’t hungry—
I didn’t care to eat,
Expecting every moment
To be kicked out in the street;
She said she’d bring her family round
Some day, and we’d have fun,
They I gave the man the fifty cents,
And this is what he done:
He tore my clothes, he mashed my nose,
He hit me in the jaw;
He gave me a prize of a pair of black eyes,
And with me swept the floor;
He took me where my clothes hung loose,
And threw me over a fence.
Take my advice, don’t try it twice,
When you’ve got but fifty cents.

We reserve the right to remove comments deemed inappropriate. We also reserve the right to delete comments that are off-topic or abusive, and do not allow messages that sell products or promote commercial ventures. Posted comments do not necessarily reflect the opinions or policies of Duke University Libraries.
Please contact David M. Rubenstein Rare Book & Manuscript Library with research questions.